She strolled down the sidewalk like a person with somewhere to go but in no hurry to get there. She moved her gaze casually through the neighborhood, the way one would while walking down a street. In reality, Ananke took in everything—the satellite dishes on top of the temporary buildings, the three men who’d just entered the diner across the street, and the pair of police station cameras, one above the front entrance and the other watching over the parking lot. The one covering the lot was clearly a relic from the pre-tech-boom era, much of its view now blocked by one of the satellite dishes.
There was no one in the truncated parking lot, nor did she see anyone looking out any of the small windows on the temp structures. Seizing the opportunity, she veered into the lot as she pulled out four tracking chips, removed the plastic covering the sticky back from one of them, and adhered the chip under the apex of the back wheel well of the first cruiser she passed.
A glance around confirmed she was still alone, so she moved to the next vehicle and repeated the trick. In less than a minute, she had all four cars in the lot bugged. It was, perhaps, overkill. The only car she was really interested in was the one Office Harris would be using, but Ananke was covering her bases. Of course, knowing where the rest of the force was at any given moment could turn out to be a nice side benefit.
The three squad cars parked in front of the station were trickier. Too many directions someone could see her from, and weaving around the trio of vehicles might provoke curiosity. She did her walk-by-wheel-well trick on the nearest car, but instead of continuing to the next one, she headed across the street and went into the pharmacy on the corner.
There she purchased toothpaste and shampoo, and then crossed back to the station side of the street. This time she walked down the gap between the two cars she hadn’t tagged, and was able to stick a tracker in the rear well of one, and the front of the other.
She looked up and down the road and confirmed she hadn’t missed any of the cruisers. Of course, there were ones out on patrol, but she could take care of them later if necessary. She headed back to her car, task one accomplished.
Twelve minutes later, she was driving into the hills east of Bradbury. Here, homes were scattered between large open fields and copses of pines. At Merrick Road, she turned again and started checking address numbers on mailboxes, finally locating the one she was looking for a mile and a half in. She continued down the road a few hundred yards until she found a grass-covered road—if you could call it that—that passed between two fields and disappeared into a copse of pines.
After hiding the Mustang, she grabbed a handful of Easy-Trak/Eavesdroppers—combination bugs that could both track and listen in on conversations—hopped out of the car, and moved into the woods.
Officer Harris’s house sat at the end of a hundred-foot driveway, surrounded by a well-manicured lawn. The exterior of the house was gray stone on the lower third, and dark red-stained wood on the rest.
Parked in front was a Ford C-Max hybrid hatchback. That was unexpected. Ananke had guessed Harris drove a truck or at the very least a muscle car. She knew that was stereotyping, but that was the vibe the cop had given her. Maybe the car wasn’t Harris’s. Could belong to a friend or a roommate.
Ananke moved as close as she could get without leaving the woods. Though no lights were on that she could see inside the house, there was enough sunlight for her to identify the kitchen and the living room through the windows along the back. Both appeared to be deserted.
Just as she’d hoped.
Harris worked the graveyard shift, and probably didn’t come home until close to seven a.m. And it was likely she hadn’t gone to sleep right away. Even in a small town like Bradbury, a job like Harris’s would require some winding-down time. Since it was barely past one p.m., Harris had probably been asleep for only five hours at most. If Ananke had the woman’s job, she wouldn’t open her eyes until three or four in the afternoon. She figured she had at least another hour before Harris woke.
She checked the yard for signs of a dog. No toys scattered about, no doghouse. On top of that, the lawn was a uniform green. A dog would have turned areas brown from repeated urination. Unless, of course, the dog was trained to go out into the woods.
She used her binoculars to scrutinize the house. No cameras, just several floodlights with motion detectors that would be a problem only at night.
Deciding the risk was worth it, she crept out of the woods and across the lawn.
No barks. No sound of running paws.
When she reached the house, she peeked through the nearest window into the living room. As she suspected, it was currently unoccupied. She turned her ear to the glass. Quiet.
She moved along the side of the house and up to the front corner, from where she scanned the front yard and driveway. The C-Max was the only car in sight, and there was no garage. Well, there was, but it had been converted into a room, the door replaced by a wall and small window.
She padded over to the car and peeked inside. A police hat sat in the passenger seat.
Seriously? This was Harris’s ride?
That kind of pissed off Ananke. She hated that a) she was wrong, and b) she’d pigeon-holed the woman in the first place.
Stay on task, she reminded herself.
Suppressing her annoyance, she stuck a bug against the lower front corner of the windshield where it could use the window as an amplifier, but would be out of sight and out of the way of the wipers.
She returned to the house, placing bugs in spots where she was sure Harris wouldn’t look anytime soon. She was at the back, placing a bug on the frame of the kitchen window where it would blend in, when the curtain on the other side of the glass shook.
She dropped below the window frame a beat before the curtains swung open. From inside, she heard someone moving around—Harris, presumably. When there was no shout of surprise or, worse, a get-on-your knees, hands-on-your-head order, Ananke eased along the wall to the chimney.
The big problem: all retreats to the woods were in view of a window. The moment the cop spotted Ananke, she’d recognize her. There weren’t that many tall, African-American women hanging around Bradbury, after all.
As Ananke contemplated her nonexistent options, the sliding glass door at the back of the living room opened. She pressed against the wall. If not for the protruding fireplace between them, she would have been in plain sight. And that advantage would disappear if Harris took more than a couple of steps outside. Ananke slipped quickly to the corner of the house and swung around it.
There, she allowed herself a quick, relieved breath, before pulling out her phone and a goose-neck camera she’d picked up when she grabbed the bugs. She attached the plug side to her phone and eased the camera end around the corner. At first everything appeared as it had before, the small back deck, the empty green yard, and the not too distant forest in the background. Then Harris stepped away from the house. She wore a pair of gym shorts and a sports bra, and held a coffee mug that had steam rising from it.
There was no denying it. Officer Harris was in great shape. With abs like hers, she must do a million—
Ananke didn’t realize Harris was turning in her direction until too late. Her animal instinct was to pull the camera back and take off running, but years of experience kicked in and she kept it still, knowing jerking it away would make it more visible.
Harris’s gaze swept along the side of the house, and turned out toward the woods as she lifted her cup and took a drink. Half a minute later, she sauntered back inside.
When Ananke heard the strong, steady flow of a shower from the other side of the bathroom window, she hightailed it back to the trees.
After reaching the Mustang, she sat behind the wheel for a few moments, catching her breath. She was even more confused about Harris now than she’d been before. The woman wasn’t fitting neatly into the box Ananke had begun to build for her.
Her phone buzzed with a text from the Administrator.
Two addition
al party invites secured.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m telling you, we gotta get in there and take a look,” Ricky said.
Not wanting to chance exposure from a second in-person team meeting so soon after the first, Ananke had everyone on a video group chat so they could fill one another in on what they’d discovered. Ricky had told them about his trip north, and the discovery of the solar farm construction site in the area Patterson had spent extra time in on the evening she disappeared. Rosario had confirmed the site belonged to Scolareon.
“I don’t disagree with you, Ricky,” Ananke said. “What I’m saying is that we don’t have the manpower to do it right this minute.”
“Who said anything about right this minute? I meant when it gets dark.”
“Great. Then there’s no problem. We’ll do it after the party.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. How long is this shindig supposed to run?”
“I have no idea. A couple hours, I guess. Maybe more.”
“And when does it start?”
“Seven.”
“Seven? It’ll be dark not long after that. We’ll be wasting time.”
“It’s a long night, Ricky. It’ll be fine.”
“How about this?” he said. “You all go to the party, have your fill of Vienna sausages on a stick and spiked punch, and then, about halfway through, cut someone free. Liesel, Dylan, Rosario—I don’t care. Anyone will do.”
“Did you just insult us?” Dylan said.
“It did sound like an insult,” Rosario replied.
“Cool your jets, Justice League,” Ricky said. “I wasn’t insulting anyone. I was saying that you’re all equally good.”
“That is not what it sounded like,” Liesel said.
“The point is,” Ricky went on, “three of you can stay at your fancy party as late as you want. Hell, go to the afterparty if there is one. While you’re having fun, I and whoever you choose to join me can do some real investigating. See? Best of both worlds.”
“I’ll consider it,” Ananke said.
Ricky’s eyes narrowed. “Is that an I’ll consider it and probably yes, or I’ll consider it and probably no?”
“It’s I’ll consider it.” A pause. “Probably.”
The mixer was hosted by a company called Digital Paste Unlimited. According to the info Shinji sent them, Digital Paste had been founded eight years earlier by Devon Rally and Elijah Chan, two software engineers who’d met at the University of Washington. The company had been one of the first to relocate to Bradbury, even before Scolareon. Their core business had evolved from time management software to a suite of organizational apps for smart phones. According to Shinji, three of Digital Paste’s apps were consistently in the top twenty-five best sellers in both Android and Apple stores, with several other apps not far behind.
Since the party was ostensibly being held for Ananke’s benefit, she and Rosario arrived at seven o’clock on the dot. The Digital Paste building was located in a converted Quonset hut, an arched structure that looked like a giant pipe sticking halfway out of the ground. The length of the building was covered in polished corrugated metal, while the front was entirely tinted glass.
As Ananke and Rosario walked up to the door, Toni Mahoney burst outside, smiling. “Right on time! Thank you so much for coming.”
She pulled Ananke into a hug.
“Thank you for, um, organizing this,” Ananke said as the woman kissed the air above her cheek. When they parted, Ananke turned to Rosario. “This is my assistant, Caroline Cruz. Caroline, Toni Mahoney.”
“Caroline, it is a pleasure.” Toni hugged and air kissed Rosario.
“Nice to meet you,” Rosario said.
Toni slipped her arm through Ananke’s. “Come, come. There are some folks here already I’d love for you to meet before it gets crowded.”
“How many people are you expecting?” Ananke asked.
Almost squealing, Toni said, “It’s going to be quite the turnout!”
She hustled them through the entrance into a swanky waiting area filled with purple crushed-velvet seats, and a circular reception desk behind which sat a young man whose smile spoke of too many cups of coffee.
“Welcome to Digital Paste,” he said. “We are honored to have you here. If you need anything, please feel to ask me. I am here for you.”
“Thank you, Chad,” Toni said as she fast walked Ananke and Rosario past the desk. Once they were beyond the half wall that separated the front area from the rest of the building, she stage whispered, “He’s new. Gay, I think. But we’re fine with that here now.”
Ananke whispered back, “How progressive of you.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Toni said sincerely.
They’d entered a giant room that continued all the way to the back of the building. The immediate area was filled by long tables divided into side-by-side computer stations. Along both sides of the room were private, box-like offices built against the curved walls.
The party was happening in the back of the building. Digital Paste’s Fun Zone. That wasn’t a name Ananke thought up. It was written in pulsating neon on a sign hanging from the ceiling.
As corny as the name sounded, Ananke couldn’t really argue with the description. The whole area was a monument to distraction. Pool tables, pinball machines, video games, to start with. There was also a soft-serve ice cream machine, a popcorn maker (the big kind, like at movie theaters), a gourmet kitchen, and a full bar that clearly wasn’t there just for the party. Seating-wise, there were couches covered in the same purple velvet as out front, and high round tables with leather stools surrounding them. To finish it all off, high-end speakers hung from the ceiling, pumping out “Alone” by EDM artist Marshmello.
“How does anyone get any work done?” Rosario whispered only loudly enough for Ananke to hear.
“You got me.”
The sixteen people present stood in groups throughout the area. Almost everyone held a glass of wine or a pint of beer.
Toni slowed as she looked around, then increased her speed again, and, with renewed energy, tugged Ananke along as she whispered in her special voice, “I’ll introduce you to the mayor first.”
The group they approached consisted of three men and a woman, none over forty-five. The guy on the left with the pretty-boy looks seemed particularly interested in Ananke. His devilish smile intensified as he tried to lock eyes with her.
She wasn’t playing his game, however. Not yet, anyway. Maybe once she knew who he was and determined if he had information she needed, she’d string him along. Sometimes—most times—men were so easy. For now, she pretended not to notice his extra attention.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Toni said, clearly not sorry. “I want to introduce you all to our guest of honor. This is Shawn Ramey and her assistant, Caroline Cruz.” She gestured to the prematurely balding man on the right. “Shawn, Caroline, this is Mayor Paulson.”
“Call me Zach,” he said, holding out a hand and flashing a career-politician-in-the-making smile.
Toni motioned at the other three and said, “And these are the brains behind Digital Paste. Megan Brooks, the chief…um…”
“COO,” Brooks said. She shook hands with Ananke and Rosario.
“Right, right,” Toni said with a laugh. “So many corporate titles to remember. And these two gentlemen are Elijah Chan and Devon Rally, the company founders and our hosts this evening.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Chan said.
“Thanks for throwing this,” Ananke replied.
Rally, the pretty boy, beamed another smile. “Shawn. I’ve always liked that name.”
Oh, boy. Bad bar pickup lines right from the start.
“I’m partial to it,” Ananke said.
They spent a few minutes making small talk—“Are you enjoying your visit?” “Where are you from?” “Quite a change from Texas, yes?”—before Toni said, “If you’ll excuse us, there’s a few others I’d like them to meet.”
<
br /> Rally made a point of shaking Ananke’s hand again. “I hope we have some time to talk more before the evening’s over. I would love to hear about your company.”
“Talking’s what I’m here for,” she said. She looked at Chan. “Again, thank you for having us.”
Thirty minutes later, the place was packed with at least a hundred people, including Liesel and Dylan, who, per instructions, spent the initial part of their evening far from Ananke and Rosario.
Though Toni limited introducing Ananke and Rosario to the higher-ups of the companies in attendance, every time she left them on their own, software engineers and coding monkeys and the like-minded stumbled over one another to meet them. Most of these worker bees were employed right there at Digital Paste, but a few represented other companies, including Scolareon. While Ananke acted interested in the Scolareon employees’ conversations, Rosario remotely hacked into their phones—cloning all their information and setting up the devices to be used as listening bugs if needed.
“Ah, there you are.”
At first Ananke didn’t realize the comment was meant for her, but then a hand moved in front of her, holding a glass filled with ice and amber liquid.
“I hope you like mai tais.”
She glanced around.
Pretty boy. Of course.
“Love them,” she said, taking the drink.
“Gentlemen, you don’t mind if I borrow our guest, do you?” he said to Ananke’s gaggle of admirers.
She had a feeling they did mind, but none protested when Rally led her away. “Sorry it took so long to rescue you. Didn’t realize you’d gotten trapped over here.”
“I didn’t realize I needed rescuing.”
He smiled as if he knew she was joking. “I thought I might give you a tour and we could talk. About business.”
Town at the Edge of Darkness Page 11
